


My Way Back

by CaptainTarthister



Series: Kingslayers [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Awkward Boners, F/M, Fluff, Rock and Roll, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-29 04:57:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8476237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: Jaime Lannister intends to make a comeback and only Brienne can deliver the impossible.





	1. I Need A Miracle

Jaime only had a moment to grimace at the sound of Brienne’s head banging on the concrete tub before he sprang into action. Shoes, pants and all, he leaped into the water and caught her just as she went under. The warm caress of the water and the slick skin of the ugliest woman in his arms were only contributing to the twitching problem in his pants. Difficult to ignore because of the pain but it couldn’t overwhelm his worry at Brienne limp and unconscious. She was hard and surprisingly very heave since she looked lean, bordering on skinny. His legs suddenly gave way and with a startled shout, they both fell in the water. One of his arms flung to the side, palm slapping hard on the tub’s frame while he kept the other around her waist. She started to slip in his arms and he grabbed hold of her again, realizing right away that he was cupping her left tit. Brienne moaned and began to stir. 

“Shit,” he muttered, dumbly staring at his hand still on her tit, feeling the soft skin and something cool and unyielding around her nipples. Annoyed with himself, he lowered his hand to her waist, tightened it and drew them to the edge of the tub where he could lean and keep them afloat. 

“Brienne?” His other hand gently slapped her pink cheek. “Sweetheart?”

Her eyes remained closed. Her eyelashes were blond and thin, he noticed, but they curled almost delicately. Her lips moved so he put his ear close to them. As he did, something glinted below her neck. “What—What?” He pressed her, eyes riveted at the gleaming silver studs framing her pink nipple and the delicate filigreed design of what appeared to the be the shape of stars around her big aureoles. He had to swallow a tortured-sounding grunt as the pressure between his thighs increased. 

“Whatcha doin’ here,” she slurred. Worried even more, he tore his eyes away from the interesting and surprising jewelry set she was wearing and turned to look at her. Her eyes were the colour of midnight blue under the overhead lights as they stared at him.

“Hey,” he greeted her, pushing a wet tendril of her hair from her forehead.

She sighed then her eyes fell closed. Panicking, he shook her awake. “No, no, no. Brienne, you can’t sleep, alright? I’m taking you to the hospital to get your head checked.” As her eyes blinked open, her forehead scrunched as if in deep thought.

“I’m okay,” she muttered, but her stare was a little unfocused.

“Let’s see what the doctor has to say about that.” Jaime growled as he planted his feet firmly on the slippery floor of the tub and rose, carrying her now. She was squirming and murmuring nonsense about being heavy and fine so he told her to shut it. He thought it was stupid of her to cover her tits and told her so. She grunted something about castrating him as soon as she had the chance. 

Puddles of water marked their route, Jaime deducing the open door near the tub must mean it was either the bathroom or something with clothes. A bedroom, it turned out. His wet pants flapped and his shoes squished at every step until he put her in bed sitting up. Brienne was still staring dully at him and he gently felt her head for a bump. When he found the rise along her skull, she gasped, “Ow! What the fuck, Jaime!” She exclaimed, her voice clear and outraged.

“There’s the Brienne I know and love,” he shot back, retracting his fingers. As she grunted that she needed clothes, he found a soft gray throw left on a chair and draped it on her shoulders. It covered her just about, from the neck down to her hips and she had to keep her legs together but Jaime had already seen the cunt she was guarding. No way was he forgetting that. 

“Where are your clothes?” He demanded, looking around the room.

“I can get dressed myself,” Brienne insisted stubbornly, her hand tenderly touching the spot on her head that throbbed. 

“Sure, if you want to give me another show,” he told her, crossing his arms and staring down at her. She turned red and huddled under the little throw. 

He almost wished she would because Seven Hells, he had _no idea_ she was hiding a body like that under all her proper sweaters and boring dark suits. He knew she didn’t wear bras since her nipples were always hard around him but when you worked in a business where every other woman flashed her goodies at you, you got unaffected by all that. But, it had been more than a year. Brienne’s body did not have the soft contours expected of a woman but he hadn’t fucked for so long that it was no wonder his cock stirred at her sweet-looking little tits, boyish waist and hairy cunt. The overlong dry spell he had cruelly subjected his body too was making him more intrigued than he should be about what those wet hairs were hiding. 

“Clothes, Brienne,” he told her again. “Unless you want me to take you to the hospital like that.”

She glared at him. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“Tell me that again by looking at me right in the eye. You can’t even focus. I’d bet you’re seeing two of me. Lucky you.” He said. Again, he demanded, “Your clothes or we leave with you like that.” He crossed his arms and gave her a look that said it was no bluff.

Scowling, she wearily pointed at the door behind him. 

Jaime opened the closet and identified her side there. The other side boasted of a long rack of tailored suits in varying shades of steel, gray, charcoal. He took a familiar-looking blue sweater and a pair of jeans. He opened several drawers, finding scarves, watches, some jewelry but no underwear. 

His cock got impossibly hard at the idea that Brienne probably didn’t wear panties. 

_Fuck, Lannister. Stop behaving like you’re the one who got hit._ He went to the other side of the closet and found a pair of jogging pants and a t-shirt. The pants were a little snug and ended right above his ankles but they were dry, at least. He skipped underwear too, though he was still clearly erect. Oberyn's shoes were too small so he went to Brienne's side of the closet and helped himself to her running shoes. They fit perfectly. Dressed, he walked out of the closet.

She muttered some thanks—or at least, that’s what it sounded, when he handed her the clothes. “Turn around,” she said. 

Jaime had to smirk. “Brienne, sweetheart, I’ve already seen everything and more. I think it’s pointless to be shy.”

“Fuck you.”

Despite what he said, he busied himself with touching and fiddling random objects in the room. It wasn’t really his fault that there was a mirror there angled such that he saw her nude again. Seven above, he hadn’t pegged his former manager as the sort to have nipple piercings, let alone go commando. It didn't escape his notice the absence of her complaint regarding the underwear. His eyes burned at the sight of the cleft the divided the firm, high cheeks of her ass, at the bulging muscles of her thighs. Jaime didn’t exactly believe in the gods but he was praying to be put out of his misery as he gazed longingly at the tantalizing sway of her hips before she _bent_ to put on the jeans. _Somebody kill me now._ One of the Seven must have heard him because mercifully, the denim covered those freckles and pale skin at last. He turned around and watched her zipping up. 

Standing taller than him, pink-cheeked and looking sleepy, she reiterated about not needing to go to the hospital. 

_Stubborn mule._ “For my own peace of mind, let’s just go have it checked. Besides, I need the doctor’s go-ahead before I talk to you about something important,” he said and she was back to muttering under her breath again. “Remember what happened before, when I fell on you because you had that idiotic plan of literally blocking my way from having a good time? You were whimpering like a motherless puppy clutching your side and if I hadn’t insisted on bringing you to the hospital we wouldn’t have known about your broken rib.” 

She glared at him when he moved to carry her again so he sighed loudly and dropped his arms. She grabbed her purse and trailed after him as they left the bedroom. He had been to her house before, just never in the bedroom and certainly not the hot tub area. But he knew that she kept a bowl by the door which housed the keys. They were scooped and secured in his hand before she could protest. 

He drove to Mother Mercy General Hospital. Again, Brienne refused his assistance but he ignored her this time and yanked her behind him by the hand. Their wait in the emergency room wasn’t very long due to her head injury.

Jaime absolutely refused to leave Brienne while waiting for the doctor in the exam room. Her speech was clear now and her eyes focused when glaring at him but he wanted her head scanned and examined. Sensing that Brienne would like their visit to be over quick, Jaime was determined to stay with her to ensure that her examination was thorough. 

Waiting still, Brienne finally asked Jaime the question that had been nagging her since finding him in her yard.

“When did you leave the Quiet Isle? You didn’t mention it in your last letter.”

“That’s because I had no intention of leaving at the time.” 

Frowning, she asked, “What happened?”

He pinched the bridge of his elegant nose. “Brienne, let’s talk about it after you’re examined, alright?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted stubbornly. “I’m not seeing double.”

“You’re way cranky than usual. It might be a symptom,” he said, sitting beside her on the bed. 

“Jaime, every time you’re in a room, you annoy the hell out of people. Even without speaking."

He smiled. “You mean I don’t have to do anything and I already affect people so profoundly?”

“Gods, Jaime. How is it that your head isn’t any bigger?”

He shrugged and glanced at her left hand. “I see the ring’s still on. Oberyn Martell, right?” He remembered complaining to the band once that the guy they hired to do the PR had a cunt name. Who the hell names their kid Oberyn? 

Brienne smirked and snorted. “I can’t believe you don’t remember him.”

“I can’t believe he’s the guy behind that. He’s short and quite oily. You know. Too slick.” Jaime made a face. He remembered Oberyn Martell as a too-slick guy who wore a lot of black and one he didn’t really trust. The guy must be hung for someone like Brienne to be gaga over him. Engaged, no less. “He reeks like a car salesman.”

“He does not! Oberyn smells like lemons and he smells great.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t really trust that. You just hit your head.”

“Another crack like that and you’ll end up the same way.” 

Gods, how could he have gone more than a year without riling her up? “So I suppose I’ll have to ask you another time if you always get off listening to my songs, huh?”

Her face went from pale to fire-engine red in three seconds. “For-For the love of the gods, Jaime!” She sputtered. Angrily, she slapped his placating hands and jumped off the bed. He grabbed her by the waist and hauled her back to his chest. She struggled but he was stronger despite sitting down. He grunted as he slightly twisted his lower body away from her hip. His cock had begun to behave but with her squirming and brushing against him, it was raring to go. 

“Let me go,” she hissed.

“Cool it, will you? Can’t you take some teasing. . .” He smirked against her hair. “Wench?”

“Damn it, Jaime!”

“Alright. I’ll shut up now. I’ll wait until you’re in your fighting form before I ask again. Wench.” He was practically purring. He didn’t know water had a scent but that was what he smelled from behind her ear. Fresh and natural. Brienne jerked away from him and sat back down.

The curtain parted and a tall man with the wildest red hair and a frightful-looking beard entered. Jaime’s arm flung protectively across Brienne’s chest before he saw the white coat he was wearing and the stethoscope slung across his shoulders. The man looked like a half-bear and half-man.

“Which one of you is Brienne Tarth?”

Jaime lowered his hand to her knee and patted it soundly. “Her.”

The man frowned at him then smiled at Brienne. He was practically leering. Jaime saw that Brienne’s nipples pointed and strained under her sweater and the fucking bear-man clearly appreciated the sight. Jaime thought of throwing his t-shirt over her and wrapping her up with the sheet like a burrito when the man introduced himself. “I’m Dr. Giantsbane.”

“I don’t need to be here,” Brienne declared.

Jaime rolled his eyes, moving his arm around her shoulders. “She slipped in the hot tub and hit her head. She was unconscious for a few seconds.”

As if remembering that Jaime was there, the bear-man frowned at him. “What happened?”

Brienne blushed and Jaime was quick. Casually, he drawled, “Well, doctor, I don’t think my fiancée would like for anyone else to know the precise details of her slipping but we both had a great time before that.” He chuckled. “My sweetheart sure knows how to welcome her man home.”

Big, sapphire eyes stared at Jaime in horror and he grinned. Giantsbane’s frown deepened as he made a note on the chart then fished out a penlight from his pocket.

“Brienne, let’s have a look at you, shall we? You were right to come here if you were unconscious even for just a few seconds.”

“Told you,” Jaime said.

“I still think this is a waste of time,” Brienne complained, following Giantsbane’s instructions to look at the light. Jaime tightened his hold on her shoulders when the doctor started feeling for the spot on her head. Brienne’s hiss of pain told him he’d found it and he made another note on the chart.

“Your pupils are responding to the light. How are you feeling?’ 

Blinking rapidly and squinting, Brienne was cross. “My head hurts and I’m a little sleepy.”

“Best that you keep awake for a few hours,” he said, writing on the chart again. “Do you have blurred vision? Difficulty speaking?”

“She was slurring when she regained consciousness,” Jaime said.

“But not anymore,” Brienne added quickly. “I’m fine.”

“Still, to be on the safe side.” Giantsbane wrote some more. When he looked at Jaime, he was frowning again. “She needs to be kept awake for four hours. She can take the medicine during that time. When she sleeps, she must be awakened every two hours after. Think you can do that?”

“There’s no need for that. I can set the alarm,” Brienne protested. Giantsbane looked like he was considering—hells, he looked like he preferred this option. Jaime saw him seeming to be at war with himself before he said with a sigh, “You might sleep through the alarm, Brienne. Best that someone is really there to make sure.” He glanced at Jaime again, this time looking resigned.

Again, Jaime grinned from ear to ear. “Signing on, doc.”

“Are we done?” Brienne was impatient. She gave Jaime a side-eye. “I told you this is a waste of time.”

“Let me write up the prescription for you then you can go.” Giantsbane told them then left.

“We saw a doc so we know what to watch out for,” Jaime said, leaning back on the bed by putting his hands to rest behind him. “You wouldn’t want to be the first Tarth to drown in the bath. Although that could have been a way to go.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Brienne looked away. Her neck was flushed cherry-red.

Enjoying what he was doing, he continued, “I’m surprised you picked _The Lady is A Wench._ I pegged you more as more of _The Lion’s Fury_ sort.” The Lion’s Fury was literally Kingsguard’s loudest song. All shouting and screaming guitar riffs. If Brienne was into hard rock music when fucking, The Lion’s Fury was just the song for her. Now that was a thought. Buttoned up, braless Brienne with the nipple piercings must enjoy rock-star-style-screaming sex. 

“Would you stop,” she hissed.

“Where the fuck is Oberyn? Hells, Brienne, if that’s the show I’ll be coming home to every night I don’t think I’ll leave at all.”

“Jaime, I swear if you don’t shut up—“

Knowing he had pushed her far enough, he held up his hands in surrender. Brienne was still scowling at him when the bear-doctor returned. He was smiling at Brienne when he handed her paper but gave Jaime a warning look. The hairy doc was obviously into Brienne. Fat chance he was going further than that. 

“Take this when you get home but stay awake for four hours.” He told her, his manner very friendly. To Jaime, he practically snarled, “Then you wake her up every two hours.”

As Brienne tucked the prescription in her pocket, Jaime swept the curtain aside gallantly and gestured she precede him. She ducked her head as she walked past. Without warning, Jaime slapped her on the ass.

“What on earth—“ Brienne growled, whirling around. Jaime laughed and slapped her there again.

“Still in fine form, wench. Just checking.” He smirked at Giantsbane, who was glaring at him disapprovingly. Brienne grunted under her breath and walked away fast. Jaime was quickly at her heels, his arm wrapping around her waist. When he looked back, the doctor was staring wistfully after them. 

“I knew it,” he said, leading Brienne to the pharmacy.

“Get your hands off me,” she commanded.

“After I just protected you from that lecher?” Jaime put his hands on his hips and stared up at her. She wasn’t much taller than him but he still had to crane his neck. He glanced pointedly at her erect nipples. “He really liked you.” He said huskily. 

Brienne gasped and her arms quickly flew up to cover her chest. Reddening, she hunched low. Realizing he had embarrassed her, he quickly said, “Hey, it’s not your fault. You have every right to not wear a bra. Your tits don’t need them—“

“Jaime, for the love of the Seven, I am this close,” she showed the tiny distance between her thumb and forefinger, “to knocking myself out just so you’ll stop torturing me.” 

He bit back a grin. “I just thought to protect you, wench. That doctor was looking at you like you’re a giant lollipop he would like to lick and slurp.”

Brienne shot him a withering glare then turned to make her order to the pharmacist. As her prescription was packed, she turned to Jaime. Rubbing her eyes, she asked, “Jaime, you haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?”

Deliberately misunderstanding her, he said, “You couldn’t believe how handsome I am so you fainted.”

She glowered at him that conveyed she would hack off his body parts with the bluntest blade she could find for added torture. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he cleared his throat. 

Brienne tapped her foot impatiently. “Out with it.”

“I wish to sing again.” He looked at her in the eye, his voice grave. “I intend to make a comeback and I need you to make it happen.”


	2. Challenge Accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jaime,” she said exasperatedly. “What do you really want? Your career back? Done. I’m no miracle worker but I’ll make it happen. If you want me to know exactly what you had with your sister, then I won’t stop you. Why are you so obsessed with my professionalism?”  
> “Because it’s shit of you.”   
> “Excuse me?”  
> “Come on, Brienne. You mean to tell me that not once you wondered why Cersei was so possessive, why you never had to get rid of some groupie from my hotel room? Why she was often at my side?” His voice was taunting as he rose to his feet, sleek and easy.   
> “Maybe I don’t want to know, how’s that?”  
> “What if I think you need to know?”

As he had been doing since he nearly gave her a heart attack hours ago, Jaime strolled ahead of her, unlocked her front door and slipped inside. Brienne trudged after him, eyebrows drawn together and thick bottom lip jutting out in a surly pout. She closed the door, tossed her purse on the table and watched in disbelief as Jaime went to the kitchen and helped himself to the dark chocolate pie. 

Her head was no longer throbbing as it had but a new headache was about to happen. She continued with her appalled stare as Jaime rooted in the fridge next and pulled out a carton of milk. He sniffed it, shrugged and brought it to the table. 

“Excuse me?” She demanded. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m starving. Come over here.” Jaime pulled out a chair for her and helped himself to the food. 

She must still be knocked out and had drowned in the bath tub. That must be it. She was dead and this was the first hell in her descent. She went to the kitchen but only stayed by the doorway, her mouth pursed even tighter as Jaime let out a really indecent, sinfully sexy moan as he bit into the pie. Her eyes widened as she felt a familiar swelling below her stomach.

“Gods, _fuck,”_ he spoke, eyes closed as he savored the bite. He licked his lips and her breath froze halfway before she remembered how to exhale. He closed his eyes and brought his fingers to his lips. Yep. This was hell, alright. No one with greasy, blond hobo hair should look that good eating pie. If Jaime were cast in a commercial for pie, everyone would not only forget about the ten pounds they wanted to lose, there would be converts among hard-core vegans and anti-gluten groups too. She was neither. 

“Oh, gods.” Jaime continued to groan. His voice was doing fluttery things to her stomach and between her thighs. Brienne wanted to kick things. Her head may not be hurting as much anymore but she was still in a fight with her fiancé, which meant more than a month of not getting any action. She thought herself a decent person, at least, not the kindest nor the nicest, but that. This torture Jaime was inflicting on her was really, really unfair. 

“I’m sorry. I thought we were going to have a serious talk about the impossible task you’ve set for me.” She crossed her arms and gave him a look.

“We can talk while I eat,” he said, smacking his lips loudly and opening his eyes. A squinty, emerald stare was aimed at her before he forked another piece off the pie. Either he was oblivious to her annoyance or he just didn’t care. She went for the latter. When she remained by the doorway, he gave her a chiding look and said, “Wench, I’ve been eating non-dairy, organic and vegan shit for a year. How I survived can be told another time but I really am starving.”

He reached for the carton of milk, about to glug it down. Brienne hissed and quickly dived for a glass. She set it next to him, eyes narrowed then sat down heavily. He smiled and poured milk into the glass.

“Don’t be an animal. And quit calling me wench,” she said, dropping heavily on the chair next to him.

“Why? It suits you.” He winked at her and sipped the milk.

She noticed for the first time that his wrists were more bony than lean, firm muscle. When she first saw him watching her orgasm as he leaned against the tree, she had to look at his eyes to recognize him. The long hair made his face look narrow, his cheekbones sharp thrusts under the skin, and his beard, trimmed neatly, almost made him look. . .well, delicate. Jaime had always been slim but muscular. Now he was wiry. He looked to have lost around twenty pounds. 

Seeing her eyes on his thin wrist, he shrugged. “A year without anything processed—basically not eating anything really good, that’s all. And hard labor.”

“I hardly call cleaning kitchens labor.”

“Oh, no. I was in charge of the stables. Taking care of the horses, feeding them, cleaning the stalls, the like. It’s a heavy workload and I’m usually too tired to eat.”

“But you were at the Quiet Isle to take good care of yourself. You were there to get better, you said.”

“I did. I am. But who knows how I am in the real world,” he finished the first piece of the pie and helped himself to another. “That’s why I had the cab bring me here. I figured you won’t have anything to tempt me. However,” and this time, his eyes fell on her tits. To her eternal mortification, her nipples tightened painfully and seemed to point toward him. He grinned at her irritation and he laughed when she jerked her arms around herself. “I think you just proved me wrong. Nipple piercings and no underwear. You’re straight out of my teenage wet dreams, wench.”

“Jaime, I swear if you don’t start getting serious—“ she started to snap, her ears burning. Straight out of his wet dreams, indeed! That was one of the many things the Quiet Isle failed in fixing, she thought. Jaime was more mocking. 

He sighed loudly and dug into the pie. “I am serious. I really want to sing again.” He said, putting a hand on her wrist to stop her from moving away. His green eyes bored deep into hers, his gaze clear. 

Jaime singing again. She would die first before admitting she missed hearing him on the radio, that she missed even more hearing anything new from him. 

Jaime was not just one of the best rock singers around but he was also the total performer. He knew how to work the crowd and would at times literally throw himself to the task of ensuring Kingsguard performances were talked about for days, even years. Brienne remembered one show where he, to the shock of the crowd and everyone else in the band, Jaime strapped on what looked to be special suit, pressed some controls and rose from the stage. He sang three songs circling the crowd from the air. Only Brienne knew about it, and thought it was cool. The others in the band didn’t think so due to the risk Jaime just took but he brushed them aside. You had to be reckless to pull off the things he did onstage and off it.

“Singing is my reason for everything, Brienne. It’s how I found my voice. My self.” Jaime drained the milk from his glass and refilled it. “I haven’t done it for over a year. That’s the longest I’ve been without singing and music. You have no idea how painful it was to give it up to get better.”

“You didn’t have to.” Brienne told him. “Nobody told you to quit.”

“It seemed the right thing to do at a time.” Jaime said quietly. As she shook her head, he nodded. “Yes, it was, Brienne. I was only singing because I had to. I forgot that I’m good at it because I loved it. I forgot all about that. Didn’t think it was worthwhile after. . .”

Brienne thought he paused to eat again. Instead, he stared off into space. She realized that his hand still rested on her, elegant and graceful with long, slim fingers on her freckly, pale skin. Carefully moving her hand from under it, he suddenly pressed firmly.

“You never asked what started it all.”

Brienne stared helplessly as his fingers slid between the tiny arcs of her own. His palm was rough and calloused but his hand was still beautiful, much beautiful than hers with their short stubby nails. She knew what he was talking about: Cersei.

“Jaime, I never asked because I don't like to pry.”

He loved his sister. It was probably the kind of love she shouldn’t think about but he was destroyed by her death. She didn’t just have the front seat during that time. She was right there, devastated and helpless as Cersei’s death slowly chipped away the life from Jaime Lannister’s eyes. 

“You know, you’re probably the only manager who believes in proper distance and all that shit,” Jaime dropped her hand and she put it on her lap. “Your mouth should be washed with soap, and as of tonight, I won’t be too far off in saying that you must be a wildcat in bed. But you’re. . .exceedingly, annoyingly polite.”

She started to flare up when he brought up her apparent sexual behavior but it was his rough tone at her politeness that got to her. He said it as if disgusted.

Jaime’s eyes were cool. “You have no compunction telling record execs to fuck themselves raw, you relish killing them during contract negotiations. Doubtless there’s hardly a thing you wouldn’t do for Kingsguard. Oh, I know. You refuse to have any relationship past the professional with us. We’re not friends.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you done?” Without waiting for his answer, she took his used plate and fork, glass then brought them to the sink.

“We’ve known each other for almost fifteen years, wench.” Jaime continued speaking from behind her as she started washing. “You know I’m allergic to strawberries, that Rhaegar sometimes sleepwalks, Sandor is not on good terms with his family. You know that Stannis can’t be given painkillers because he got addicted to them before and Renly is still verbally abused by his parents for being gay. But we—I—know nothing about you except that you would probably kill for us, won’t you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just a dedicated employee.”

“You started out like that but you have to believe me when I say I think of you as a friend. Outside of the band, you’re the only other real friend I have.” Jaime’s laugh was bitter. “The only one I have left, come to think of it.”

Brienne finished washing then put them on the rack to dry. Wiping her hands, she turned around to look at Jaime. He was still sitting down, arms folded on the table and looking at her in both puzzlement and frustration. 

“We can’t be friends if you want me to remain good at my job, Jaime. And admit it: I am the fucking best.”

“You are. But I wonder if you’ve ever cared about any of us.”

“Of course I did. I made the arrangements for Cersei’s funeral. I kept the press away—“

“Drove me to morgue and allowed me to ruin your t-shirt with my bawling when I found out about Cersei. Did you do those things as a manager or as friend?”

She met his challenging stare. “I did as expected.”

“So those late, late nights we had. Before my sister ruined whatever was developing, you did it because it was expected of you?” He was glaring at her, as if wanting her to remember. She did. When a lull in their conversation about mountains of nothing fell, they would look at each other a second too long, stare at the other’s lips and just right then, Cersei would storm into the room. 

“Jaime,” she said exasperatedly. “What do you really want? Your career back? Done. I’m no miracle worker but I’ll make it happen. If you want me to know exactly what you had with your sister, then I won’t stop you. Why are you so obsessed with my professionalism?”

“Because it’s shit of you.” 

_“Excuse me?”_

“Come on, Brienne. You mean to tell me that not once you wondered why Cersei was so possessive, why you never had to get rid of some groupie from my hotel room? Why she was often at my side?” His voice was taunting as he rose to his feet, sleek and easy. 

“Maybe I don’t want to know, how’s that?”

“What if I think you need to know?”

“I don’t want to know.” Brienne declared defiantly. “I don’t need to know to do my job. I don’t want you thinking I need to know because our focus should be getting your career back. I can’t be your friend if you want me to do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t believe in mixing the personal with the professional.”

“Fuck me in the ass and call me Sally, wench. You’re fucking engaged to the guy who used to do my PR.”

“We only started dating when Kingsguard broke up.” She pointed out. “And what I do outside of my work is none of your fucking business.”

She had to walk past him to leave the kitchen. She was halfway to the bedroom when he called for her to stop.

“Alright. No personal stuff. If you believe that’s what we have to be so we can get what we both want. I just thought. . .Brienne, I really hope we can be friends. Friendships don’t ruin partnerships, wench.” He smirked as he put his hands in the pockets of track pants that she recognized were Oberyn’s. “It’s fucking. And we are never going to fuck, are we?”

“Of course not,” she muttered. 

“Good. I only thought we could be, I don’t know, closer My time at the Quiet Isle has given me new perspective on things. But I would really like for us to friends, Brienne. I don’t see just see you as a manager.”

“Tomorrow, I’m going to start making calls,” Brienne said suddenly, snapping her fingers. Oh, she liked this. Brienne the Manager mode, where she only ran in two settings, Jackal or Beast. If Jaime was all Feelings and Connection thanks to the Quiet Isle, that was his party and she didn’t want an invitation.“And we have to get you all glinty and handsome again.”

Jaime frowned. “What the fuck do you mean?”

“Look at you! You’re skinny as a rake and that hair—really, Jaime, if not for your fucking god-like good looks, I would swear you have fleas. We need to make an appointment for haircut and color.”

“Hold on.” Jaime said. “Did you just say I look like a god? And what the fuck is wrong with my hair?”

Brienne looked at the ceiling before lowering her head to stare back at him. “We’ll need to get in touch with your old trainer to get you all muscly again. You also need to spend a few days in the sun because you’re practically as white as a radish. Then we need to round up the guys and tell them Kingsguard is back. As for your hair, we need it back to its pretty golden blond color. Oh, I don’t know. You’re forty-two. You can probably pull off the silverfox look.”

She turned to go to her bedroom, muttering about having to make a list. As she typed the code for her tablet, Jaime startled her by diving on her bed and making himself comfortable there. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Doctor Bear said to wake you every two hours.” 

“I fail to see why you have to be in bed with me.”

“Do you have a guest room?”

“I have a lovely couch.”

“Which is too small for me. Nah, I’m sleeping here.”

_“What?”_

Jaime looked hurt and stacked his palms under his head. “You heard me. Be nice, Brienne. I rescued you from drowning and you repay me by forcing me sleep in that midget couch? What must a man do to earn a night in your bed?” 

She was horny and missing Oberyn that’s why she thought she heard that very suggestive lilt in his voice. She was projecting her sexual frustration on the nearest available target.

“You can’t sleep here with me! I’m engaged!”

“I don’t see why not. I respect that ring, and you. You, on the other hand. . .” his voice trailed off and he smiled with irritating innocence at her. 

Brienne put her tablet away and stalked to the foot of the bed. “Jaime, really, isn’t it bad enough that I got conked on the head? Is it really so much fun to annoy and torture me?”

He laughed. “More than you think, wench.” He patted the space next to him. “Come on, we’ll talk about my career later. You need rest. We can watch a movie for another two hours before you can sleep.”

“Oberyn is not going to like this.”

Jaime made a face. “Gods. That’s why I’m never getting married ever. You start asking permission.”

“I am not going to ask his permission!”

“Then what? Tell him that Jaime Lannister is warming your bed tonight?”

Gods, Jaime wouldn’t be such an excellent lyricist if he didn’t know how to twist words in really naughty ways. Brienne grumbled, “No. Of course not.”

“I’m just here to protect you and to help you as needed, wench.”

“Brienne!” She practically screeched. “My name is Brienne, not wench!”

Jaime grinned again, complete with his ridiculous, stupid dimples and sparkling emerald eyes. “Are you sure? You certainly act like it. Come to bed, wench. Oh, but shouldn’t you get rid of those cute piercings first? We don’t want you screaming awake because they got snagged on a thread or something.” He patted the pillows and sighed. “If you ask me, the only good reason for waking up screaming is when you someone is fucking--“

“Finish that sentence and not only will I throw you out, Lannister. I’ll tell everyone that the reason you sound so good is because you’re a fucking castrato.”


	3. It's All Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne asked him again, “Why did you really leave the Quiet Isle, Jaime? You told me in your last letter you still have many things to do. I know you can come and go there whenever you want but—“  
> “It’s not like I planned it, okay? And I told you. I was sick of that organic, vegan shit.” He sounded irritable.  
> “Really.”  
> He met her stare unblinkingly. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some inappropriate touching. You've been warned.

Who the fuck calls this early in the morning? Brienne wondered irritably as she burrowed deeper in the bed in a futile attempt to escape the ringing phone. Bad enough that the ring tone was another Kingsguard song, The Rains of Castamere. She had also put the phone on vibrate mode so it was rocking loudly on the wooden surface of the table for maximum discomfort. She opened one eye, then another, whined then reached for it. Still lying on the bed, she brought it to her ear.

“This better be good,” she growled.

“Hey.”

Brienne’s eyes widened. “Oberyn.”

She started to sit up and that was when she discovered that Jaime, sound asleep with his nose smooshed to her ear and the manacle grip of his arm around her waist. It was heavy despite being skin and bone and she had to turn and maneuver so before it was off. But the moment she started moving away, Jaime, still asleep, grunted and flung his arm back and hauled her to his chest. His lips pressed one her nape and she froze.

“Brienne?” Oberyn sounded a little impatient. “Are you there?” 

“Who’s that?” Jaime grumbled, pushing his face against the back of her shoulder. Her body temperature leaped up to several degrees as he nuzzled against it. Still sleepy and confused with the call and her body’s reactions, she didn’t stop Jaime’s hand from sliding under her t-shirt and cupping her breast. He sighed and kissed her shoulder. 

“Who the fuck is that?” Oberyn demanded.

Recovering her sanity, Brienne covered the phone and hissed at Jaime, “Get. Your. Hand. Off. Me.”

“Your tits are really small.” Despite his voice being scratchy from sleep, she heard what sounded like wonder. She slapped at his hand and Jaime yelped, quickly yanking his hand away. She grabbed her pillow and hit him on the head then leaped off the bed. Jaime groaned and turned away from her, curling into a ball. 

“I heard someone, Brienne.” Oberyn was saying when she brought the phone back to her ear.

“Fucking too early to be working, wench,” Jaime complained.

“What the hell is going on there?”

Torn between confusion and annoyance, Brienne, who was blushing, snapped, “It’s Jaime, alright? Jaime Lannister. He’s here and we’re—“

“Don’t you fucking tell people where I am, wench.”

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” Oberyn said, shocked.

“Not you! Gods, not you! It’s—It’s Jaime. He’s here. We’ve been talking.” She glared back at the disgruntled blond god blinking up at her. 

“You have a meeting with him at six-twenty-two in the morning?”

Brienne frowned at the phone. “Why are you calling so early?”

“Gods, wench, really? Will you let me sleep?”

She turned back to Jaime. His face was pressed on the pillow and his stupid, hobo hair still looked glorious despite being tangled and mussed from sleep. She frowned at the familiar gray t-shirt he was wearing. “Will you shut up? My fiancé is on the line!”

Jaime snorted. “Jaime Lannister sends his regards.”

“Hold on. Are you telling me that Jaime Lannister is with you? Where are you?” Oberyn asked.

Keeping the phone pressed to her ear, Brienne tripped and staggered to the sliding glass doors that led to the hot tub. A shiver ran up and down her spine before it spread in her entire body as the cold morning mist hit her. She was wearing only a tissue-thin t-shirt and boxers. Wrapping an arm around herself, she spoke to Oberyn.

“I’m at home. Jaime came by early because he’s out of rehab and wants his career back,” she told Oberyn, sitting on a padded lounge chair which was bathed in soft sunlight. The small measure of warmth melted off some the chill from her legs. She rubbed them vigorously for more warmth. 

“A bit unorthodox, the idea of a rock star awake at sunrise,” Oberyn remarked. “I thought you—well—“

Frowning, she asked, “What?”

“Never mind. I called to check on you.”

“If you are calling to check on me, you sure took your time. I got only your voice mail last night.” Brienne didn’t believe in drama, much less throwing a hissy fit. “Why didn’t you call or text earlier? I hit my fucking head, Oberyn. I was unconscious for a few seconds. I was in the hospital.”

“Well, I’m calling now, aren’t I? Besides, I had to screen my calls last night, Brienne. Everyone wants everything they could get about Taena. We’ve released a statement but you know how those sons of bitches are.”

But Brienne was not a forgiving woman. Not now, anyway. “You could have sent me a message.”

“I told you. I couldn’t. After releasing a statement, I had everything go to voice mail. I was exhausted.”

“And what is it that you thought was happening earlier when you called?” She pressed, raising an eyebrow.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“When you said how it’s unorthodox for a rock star to be awake. You said you thought something of me. What is it.”

Oberyn sighed. “Brienne.”

Her expression was stony. “Oberyn.”

“Please don’t ruin this, alright? We’ve only just started talking again.”

“I’m not the one with these thoughts. Tell me exactly what you were thinking.” As she spoke, she heard the doors parting open. Out sauntered Jaime, yawning hugely. He raised his t-shirt and scratched his flat stomach, the other arm stretching up.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright? But we haven’t really spoken in weeks and I shouldn’t have thought you’re with another guy.”

“I can’t believe you! You really think I’d go and fuck someone just because we haven’t been okay for a while?” 

“Brienne.” Oberyn sounded tired. “I said I’m sorry.”

“It’s not enough. I’ve been in Seven Hells thinking of us, wondering why the fuck I’m so hesitant about setting a date and you’re thinking the worst of me?” Her lower lip trembled. “You don’t trust me.”

“That’s not true.”

“No, you don’t.” 

“I trust you. I swear to the gods.”

“You’re an atheist. Don’t fuck me, Oberyn.”

He sighed. “The second I thought it was, it was gone, alright? I know it was wrong. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make that any more clear.”

Brienne stared woodenly back at Jaime, who was still scratching his stomach. Then he started beating his chest and started yodeling. 

“What the fuck is that?”

“We’ll talk when you get home.”

“Brienne—“

She pressed the button to end the call. Jaime finished beating at his chest and was now doing what looked to be toe touches. The threadbare fabric of the track pants he wore stretched tautly across his firm buttocks and she rolled her eyes. She stormed back to the bedroom, tossed her phone on the bed and went to the kitchen. 

Trust Oberyn to think so low of her just because they’ve been arguing a while. Brienne’s throat was tight as she pulled out food from the cupboard and the fridge without really seeing them. It hurt that he had so little faith in her. It probably wouldn’t sting so much if this was the first time it happened but he had questioning her commitment and accusing her of not taking their relationship seriously for too long already. And now this. Brienne choked back a sob as she got a skillet and fired up the stove. Her breath shook as she swallowed the sobs threatening to rise from her throat. 

She was cursing all men when another of their ilk showed up. Jaime, infuriating as ever, wore an ear-to-ear grin as he drummed his fingers on the counter. He looked well-rested and alert, better despite his tousled hair and beard. He sat down and beamed at her. 

“Good morning, wench.”

She stared at him and without another word, put slices of bacon in the skillet. His behavior had been annoying but that was Jaime being Jaime. He would perish if unable to mock or make somebody into a joke. She was used to it. Oberyn thinking so awful of her was a knife twisting slowly in her heart.

“So I’m handsy during mornings,” Jaime said, shrugging. “It’s a thing. Just ask Tyrion.”

“Jaime, I really don’t have time for your jokes or any of your signature mockery. My head has finally stopped hurting although the gods only know how much coffee I’ll need to survive today because you fucking woke me up every hour last night when it should have been two.”

“Two hours felt too long.”

“Next time, do as the doctor said.”

“That makes sense. They’re paid to tell us how to delay death a little longer. And it works.”

Brienne snorted and watched the bacon cook. She felt Jaime approach her before she scented the slight, faded note of soap from his shower last night. With a hand at the small of her back, he put his lips to her ear and said, his voice surprisingly gentle, “Let me take care of this.”

She was still frowning as his fingers pried hers off the spatula, making her shiver and sweat at the same time at the no-nonsense touch. For the first time since last night, his eyes looked at her with kindness. Brienne was a sucker for the smallest gestures of such and knew it. Biting her lip, she turned away and busied herself with making coffee.

No word passed between them, except for when she asked Jaime if he would like to try cinnamon in his coffee. He nodded then cracked eggs over the pan, where the bacon was sizzling to a beautiful, golden crisp. Brienne poured water and watched with blank eyes as coffee streamed down the pot. The kitchen was warm and and felt homey with the aroma of bacon, cinnamon and coffee. They saw through their individual tasks as if this was another morning of doing them.

She didn’t know what Jaime overheard and was grateful he didn’t bring it up. But whatever he picked up on told him she needed comforting right now. At least, that’s what she thought when he pressed a hand at the back of her waist as she was putting down plates on the table. His touch was fleeting but warm and she felt it deeper than her skin. She glanced at him and lowered her eyes when he tucked a tendril of her hair behind her ear. When she looked at him, she saw a little frown forming on his face and then he was kissing her on the cheek. Then he was off to finish cooking before her mind registered what had happened.  
Jaime served her first, piling eggs and bacon on her plate before putting the rest on his. He sat down next to her, as easily as if it was something he had always been doing. Brienne picked up a strip of the meat and took a bite. Jaime watched her chew as he held the coffee poised to his lips.

“How is it?”

She grinned and got another, dipping it in the egg yolk. “You have a bright future as a line cook.”

He chuckled and sipped his coffee. “I’ll make note of it.”

More quiet fell between them. Jaime watched the flutter in Brienne’s lashes as her thoughts returned to the early phone call. He tried to keep his glance casual but when her cheeks bloomed a lovely pink colour, he couldn’t look away. Brienne put her cup down, her furrowed eyebrows indicating a tension. Realizing she was lost in her thoughts, she snapped out of it and turned to Jaime. He was swirling his eggs and bacon round the plate with a fork.

“What are your plans today?” Jaime asked, eating.

“Too many,” she answered with a sigh. “Don’t you have any?”

Jaime shrugged. “I’ve been off the radar for a year. Who do I have to see?”

Realizing what he meant, she said slowly, “Tyrion doesn’t even know you’re back.”

“I’ll tell him tomorrow. Or next week. Once he knows, Father will know. I would rather delay it for as long as I could, wench.”  
She understood. Tywin Lannister was a terrifying man. She had met him once and found him cold and calculating. Tyrion and Jaime must have gotten their attitude from their mother.

“I also have to start looking for an apartment, check myself in at a hotel while I’m at it.”

Brienne loaded egg and bacon on her fork. “What happened to your penthouse and your home in Highgarden?”

“I had the penthouse put on lease so that white elephant would be of some use. At my instructions, Tyrion sold my place in Highgarden.”

“What? So that means—“

Jaime’s smile was rueful as he refilled his coffee. “I’m homeless. I’ve become the ultimate cliché for a has-been.”

“You are not,” Brienne declared vehemently. “We’ll get you back on top, Jaime. It will be a steep climb but you have my word you’ll be back there, as you should be.”

As she spoke, her hand fell on his wrist. Jaime stared at it and she flushed, quickly taking it away. 

“Kingsguard is the best rock band, hands down.” She stammered, scrambling for something to say. “You guys deserve only the best comeback.”

“What have they been up to?”

She told him. Sandor and Sansa were expecting their first child. They had all gone into record producing. Only Rhaegar straddled responsibilities onstage and behind the scenes as he had many musical collaborations. “We’ve been approached to be coaches for this new reality show about the next big rock band,” she told Jaime as they were washing the dishes. “I’m still thinking about it but I hear Rhaegar is on.”

“Why the hesitation?” Jaime asked as she passed him the plate to be wiped dry. “I can imagine they’re ready to make any deal you want, Brienne.”

“I know, and it’s exciting. But I don’t have the drive to help build a group from the ground up. I’m also enjoying my gig in the magazine and I’ll be finishing college in the next semester.” At Jaime’s surprised glance, she blushed. “It’s no big deal. I’ve been attending night classes off and on, and it’s just community college.”

“Yeah. I remember. I just didn’t realize how important finishing is for you.”

“I know it seems silly,” she confessed, feeling her neck go warm. “I mean, I’m clearly comfortable with life and I can do whatever I want but it means a lot to have my name on something I worked on myself. And I promised my Dad no matter what, I’ll finish school.” 

“Of course. I understand that.” He smiled at her fondly. “Well, I’m proud of you.”

Brienne flushed and grunted, “And?”

“And I _am_ proud of you, wench. You fulfilled your oath to your father against all odds.” 

They stared at each other. Jaime’s expression was unreadable while her face just got redder by the second. She was the first to look away, hurriedly rinsing her hand then wiping them dry.

“Jaime, I have a full day but there are things we have to do.” She said briskly as she walked out of the kitchen. Jaime was following close behind. She turned and almost smacked into him. Blushing again, she cleared her throat. “You are in dire need of a haircut, for one.”

Jaime rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his luscious golden locks. “What? I like my hair like this.”

“You look like a homeless person. Which you are, come to think of it.”

“I’m a Lannister.” He said huffily. 

She cocked an eyebrow. “You look like a homeless Lannister.”

“That’s a first. Don’t take that honour away from me.” He said, touching his hair again. 

“Fine. It’s your hair. But we also need to fatten you up, get you to the gym.” Brienne stalked to the bedroom, Jaime once again following her. To her surprise, the bed was fixed, sheets tucked hospital-corner tight. Continuing, her tone with a hard, stubborn edge, she said, “And if you’re going to stay here, we’ll have to find a room for you.”

Jaime made a face but said. “I’m sure I can endure the couch.”

“No. I’ll have to move some things around in the study but I’m sure I can fit. . .a futon in there.” This time, Brienne was red down to her chest, she was sure. 

“Wench, please don’t put yourself out. I can stay in a hotel—“

“Is that what you’d like?”

Jaime looked doubtful. “At some point I’ll have to be on my own.”

Brienne asked him again, “Why did you really leave the Quiet Isle, Jaime? You told me in your last letter you still have many things to do. I know you can come and go there whenever you want but—“

“It’s not like I planned it, okay? And I told you. I was sick of that organic, vegan shit.” He sounded irritable.

“Really.”

He met her stare unblinkingly. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

“If you’re staying here—“

“I told you. Hotels are fine.”

“And if you start drinking again? I refuse to have it on my conscience if you revert to that.”

“You don’t believe in me?” He demanded.

“I never stopped believing in you, Jaime. But it’s a little hard to keep faith when you yourself won’t.” 

He was about to say something but her words surprised him. When he remained quiet, she continued with ticking off plans for today.

“I have meetings until this afternoon and there’s this concert I have to go to. But I have two hours free. We can go shopping for the futon then. And, uh, did you pack clothes?”

“The Quiet Isle will send me the rest of my stuff.”

“We’ll see if you you’ll survive wearing synthetic fabrics for a day,” she told him, grinning. “But until we get you some shirts and pants, I guess we’ll be sharing clothes.” They were both broad-shouldered, though hers were more impressive. She was six-foot-three and he an inch shorter. Her t-shirt looked much better on him than on her and she entertained the image of Jaime wearing one of her blouses. No doubt he would be way prettier. It wasn't an upsetting thought. Maybe his legs would look nice in her stilettos too. . .

Jaime smiled back. “Even your underwear?” 

“Don’t ruin the moment, Jaime.” 

 

At noon, Brienne left her car at the valet service of Hotel Westeros. The doorman, recognizing her, tipped his hat at her and was quick to call over a concierge to bring her to the restaurant, though she had been there many times. The host greeted her and personally brought her to the table where Rhaegar Targaryen was waiting.

His hair was a thick, silver-blond and his eyes a dreamy violet. He was tall and lean, and he looked and acted every inch a dreamboat. He rose as Brienne neared the table, his movements more graceful than smooth. His smile was warm as he took Brienne by the hand and they kissed briefly on the lips. It was an intimate but friendly kiss. Brienne flushed at realizing eyes were watching them, and she fumbled as the host pulled out the chair for her to sit down. Rhaegar followed and regarded her, his gaze inquisitive.

“So he’s back,” he said without preamble.

Brienne nodded. While Jaime was in the shower this morning, she made a quick call to Rhaegar informing him about the return of his best friend. She knew Jaime wouldn’t like what she had done but she had to know if everyone will be on board with plans for a comeback. A year may have only passed but it was more than enough time for fame to fade away and people to forget. The task Jaime wanted of her was tantamount to launching a new group, except she had people’s memories and sentimentality to work with.

Rhaegar and Jaime were best friends. They made the best collaborators. Though they both wrote songs, Rhaegar was stronger on the lyrics side and Jaime with singing. Rhaegar had been upset that Jaime quit the band and made Brienne break the news to them. A quiet, introspective man, Brienne saw a rare flare of temper in his eyes upon being told of Jaime’s betrayal. 

“I thought you should know first,” Brienne told him. “But please don’t tell him about this meeting?”

“Of course. You know you can count on me.”

A server approached them with menus and a wine list. Rhaegar ordered for them and Brienne just let him do it. She was more concerned with the outcome of this meeting than what she’d be putting in her stomach.

“I know you don’t want him to know,” Rhaeager told her when the waiter left. “But I had to tell the rest of the guys.” At Brienne’s surprise, he was quick to explain. “I thought to spare you. Both of you. Jaime is like a brother to me. Though he was a self-centered fuck for what he did, I’ve forgiven him. Stannis, he can be persuaded. Sandor would tell whatever Sansa tells him to do and we both know what that would be. But Loras is another matter.”

“Loras,” Brienne echoed. "Why?"

“He doesn’t want to come back. Ever.”

 _“What?”_ Brienne exclaimed, so loudly that heads turned toward them. Rhaeager winced as she blushed and she said more softly, ”Explain to me.”

“He’s tired. He’s sick of paparazzi chasing him, sick of the constant violation of his privacy. He’s in Braavos and has no plans of returning anytime soon. Not to mention that his family still gives him grief though it's been years since he last saw any of them.”

Thrown by this unexpected turn, Brienne found herself grasping at straws. “Maybe if I talk to him—“

Rhaegar shook his head.

“If Jaime were—“

“Loras absolutely refuses to discuss anything more about the band. He wanted me to make it clear to you.”

“What about you and the others?” When Rhaegar remained silent, Brienne’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Oh my gods.” She gasped. “You don’t want to revive Kingsguard anymore.”

Rhaegar smiled sadly. “It might be stupid, Brienne, but I’m more satisfied collaborating with other artists and producing music. I didn’t have much opportunity for that before. And I can’t stomach the idea of Kingsguard performing with another drummer, no matter how good the guy is. None of us want to. We are Kingsguard and no one else.”

_Jaime was fucked.They both were._

It wouldn’t be so upsetting if only it was the best kind of fuck.


	4. Truth and Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was submissive and helpless

Two weeks passed since Brienne, Oberyn and Jaime started co-habiting. Finding a futon that would accommodate Jaime’s tall form took them a day and a half. Brienne was loathed to have him sleep with her again but at least Jaime insisted on taking the couch that night. She wondered whether there was any wisdom at all in her offer that he stay. Conscience and her unyielding sense of responsibility would trump her doubts. It didn’t matter that Jaime coming from old money and being rich on his own could afford a castle or two in a snap. She wouldn’t be at peace leaving him on his own yet, even if he could be prideful and insist he was alright. 

Especially given that she had this fucking secret that could either undo him or, best case scenario, encourage him to get back in the game on his own. There was no good way to tell him but the clock was ticking. The longer she kept it to herself, the worse it would get and the very thing she was trying to help Jaime from not doing might just happen. 

Oberyn, as expected, was far from pleased that she had taken in a guest on an indefinite stay. He was once again Jaime’s PR. Despite the buttload of money in it for him, he did not relish the fact that he lived with work twenty-four-seven. Brienne dreaded for when he brought up the subject of their wedding date again. They were talking again but there was a definite strain as each tiptoed around the other. Except for a perfunctory kiss on her lips when he returned from the trip, they still hadn’t touched each other, nor talk beyond, “Pass the salt, please.”

Jaime at least had toned down his way-too-playful behavior around her. The damned man would still call her wench when they were alone, however.

On Friday night, he surprised her with the announcement that he was off to have dinner with Tyrion. Oberyn was in an event and Brienne thought that with just her and Jaime around, she could finally drop the bombshell about Kingsguard. She looked at him with both relief and uncertainty as he stood before her, looking almost like his old self again.

His hair was trimmed now but still longish and, having gone through professional treatments, looked more golden and softer. He was clean-shaven though a stubble had begun to grow and outline his elegant, sharp jawline that would be shaved come morning. He was dressed in a dark green button-down, dark gray slacks and gleaming Oxfords. He was slipping on a matching jacket as he spoke. Brienne’s stare lingered on his broad shoulders, a catch in her throat. She looked away as he finished straightening the jacket and turned to her. 

“That’s great,” she managed to say and resumed slicing carrots. Then she paused and looked at him. “But. . .where, exactly?” 

He smirked. “Why, out in public, of course.”

“You don’t want anyone knowing you’re back and now you want to be seen? Oh,” she grunted, realizing that this was his intent. As Jaime spread his palms and gave her a placid, kowing look, she turned pink. “Hey, I can call the paps on you, just say the word.”

“Maybe when Tyrion and I are done with dinner. Of course the servers will be talking.” Jaime said. “Sorry you had the salon people sign NDAs for naught.”

“It brought you several days. It’s your call, Jaime. I only do as you ask.”

She resumed slicing vegetables, unaware that his gaze was warm on the fall of her hair, a practical bob she never let grow past her ears. Her nape had a surprisingly elegant curve despite her thick, strong neck. He watched the lightning-quick motions of her hands cutting up vegetables and setting them aside.

“I missed Tyrion. Hey, you haven’t seen him for a long time. I know you’re one of the few people my brother actually likes. Why don’t you join us?” 

“You haven’t seen each other in a year. You have a lot to catch up on. I’ll just be in the way.” Brienne set reached for the bundle of broccoli next. “Next time.”

“On the contrary, wench, you are the way in more things you can imagine,” he told her. Suddenly, a dark look settled on his handsome face but it vanished quickly. “I forget. You and Oberyn have plans?”

She hoped he stayed out late, actually. Without Jaime around, Oberyn was going to insist they talk about the wedding. “You can say that. He won’t be back for a couple of hours. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I have my beef stir-fry and a good book.” 

“You sure?”

“Positive. Give Tyrion my love.”

Jaime grinned. “I’ll give him your regards, wench.”

“Take my car,” she offered. 

“I was going to call a service so. . thank you?” Then Jaime went around to kiss her on the cheek. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

Brienne stared at the front door long after he had gone. She resumed making herself dinner, losing herself in the process of mixing herbs and spices into the food until she was satisfied with the savory aroma pervading the kitchen. She was going through the wine rack picking out a bottle when she heard a car pull up in front. Then the front door was opening and Oberyn was there.

“Hey,” he said, nodding at her.

“Hi.” Brienne was startled. “You’re home early.”

“I skipped the party and did some work in the office instead,” Oberyn replied, shooting her a quick smile. “That smells good. Is there enough for me?”

“Of course there is. Let’s eat at the counter?” 

“Love it. Just let me change out of this.”

Brienne set the table. She kept glancing at the door of the bedroom as she did, willing herself to relax. She was pouring wine in goblets when Oberyn returned to the kitchen. In a worn white t-shirt and faded cargo shorts, he looked relaxed and younger than his forty-three years. Brienne smiled at him, almost shyly. Encouraged, his black eyes sparkled as he went to her. 

They sat down and Brienne put food onto his plate before hers. As she did, Oberyn, said, “It’s been so long since we sat down for a meal together.”

“What do you mean? We have breakfast together.” She said, digging into her food. 

“Yeah, but something like this. You and me just like this. And not having to rush anywhere. Alone.” He added pointedly. She flushed and hid her burning cheeks by sipping wine. “Where’s Jaime, anyway?”

“Out.” 

“Good.”

Then he wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her.

Brienne sighed against his tongue as they kissed, her hand rising to touch his cheek while he held her. Gods, it had been so long. She moved so she was closer and could deepen the kiss. How she had missed this. The flavor of his tongue that reminded her of spice and impulse. Her fingers thrust through the thick curls of his hair.

Suddenly, Oberyn was standing, the chair falling back to the floor with a slam. He grabbed her with him before pressing her against the wall. He grinned at her and she returned it before she cupped his face again for a kiss. His fingers slipped inside her shorts and dragged the garment down. 

In the next instant, she was yanked from the wall and pushed against the table. His hand pressed low on her back as he urged her bend over while the other dragged her shorts down to her legs. She tried turning, wanting to look at him, tell him to take it slow, but he pushed her back down. Her hands struggled for friction on the smooth surface until she settled for just gripping the edges, her arms flung to the sides as Oberyn pushed her down once again then thrust. 

“Wait—“ she gasped, her legs closing on instinct as he pushed in. Her head was still reeling from the kiss, and it felt heavy and hot but the rest of her body hadn’t caught up yet. She wasn’t that wet. But Oberyn spread her legs open from behind and resumed fucking her, his thrusts short and desperate. She grimaced and struggled to push her hand down, fingers arrowing toward her clit. There. The moisture beginning to gather eased the piercing discomfort but she was still trying to turn around. 

She hated fucking in this position. It was submissive and helpless. She was ugly, she knew that and accepted it but she wanted to be looked at when fucked. Wanted the man to know he was fucking her and not imagining someone else. Oberyn’s hand on her back kept her pressed on the table and it hurt her breasts as the curves and filigrees of her nipple piercings dug and threatened to cut through skin. She pushed up and Oberyn grunted, his hands sliding to her hips to grip her there as he finished with a rough groan.

As he collapsed on her, Brienne pushed him away and yanked her t-shirt down. Oberyn sank on one of the chairs and panting, his cock hanging semi-hard between his legs. Brienne wrenched her shorts on, strode to him and slapped him right in the face.  
Oberyn nearly fell off the chair. “What the fuck was that for?” He shot back angrily.

But Brienne was more pissed. “What the fuck was that? You know I don’t like fucking that way!”

“Oh,I’m sorry for forgetting.” Oberyn snapped in a tone that conveyed otherwise. He jerked his shorts back up and glared at her. “We haven’t fucked in so long I forgot.”

“Sometimes you’re shit at lying, Oberyn.”

Brienne refused to step aside when he shot to his feet so he his shoulder collided with her chest. She glared after him as he stalked.

“Don’t you walk away from me. Don’t you fucking walk away from me!”

“Really, Brienne?” Oberyn turned around mockingly. “I figured since you do it so much it’s time I know how fun it is for you.”

“What’s wrong with you? Why won’t you talk to me?”

“Talk to you! How when you’re always running away!”

She flushed, unable to deny it. Seeing that he’d made a dent, Oberyn smirked.

“You brought this upon yourself.”

Blue eyes flashed. “Son of a bitch.”

“I don’t know if it’s escaped your notice, my dear sweet fiancée,” Oberyn spat. “But if you notice, we’re nowhere near setting a wedding date. Just when I thought we could finally fix this shit we’ve been wading in for months, you went right ahead and took on that Jaime Lannister, had him fucking living here in our house, without even talking to me first!”

Brienne responded with the first thing that came to mind. “This is my house.”

“Yes! This is _your_ fucking house! I sleep in _your_ fucking bed. I fuck you on _your_ sheets, on _your_ couch, in _your_ kitchen. The only place for me is your cunt.”

Brienne, disgusted at the turn of their discussion, turned to leave. Oberyn roared.

“Fucking walk away from me this time and we’re over.”

She whirled around. First, she paled then her face warmed as a look of utter shock settled there. It transformed to outrage, one she could barely control given her thick lower lip trembled so. 

And then a sea of calm began to rise inside her. It was still and cool, freezing the cracks in her heart yet strengthening a resolve she didn’t know she had until that very moment. Suddenly everything was so clear. She no longer willed herself to blindness.  
“Haven’t we been for a long time?” She whispered.

“You did this.”

“No.” Her voice was calm. “You did.”

Oberyn shook his head. “All I want is to love you and marry you, Brienne. Make you mine at last.”

“I’ve always been yours, Oberyn, and I don’t doubt you want to marry me. But love me?” She made a tutting sound, walking around him like a predator eyeing her pray. “You don’t.”

He looked at her. “Really. The man who wants to marry you doesn’t love you.”

“How can you think I don’t know?”

“What are you talking about?” He snapped.

“All my life people didn’t think much of me. I will always be that ugly, waste of space. No matter how much I have. So I made myself into the person people would respect. If not that, then feared.” Brienne put one foot in front of the other as she went to him. “I own this town, Oberyn. What do you think that means?”

He stared back at her wordlessly, swallowing. His black eyes betrayed nothing but his entire body was tight with tension.  
Brienne sighed, looked around and found her phone on the counter. She scrolled until reaching the Gallery folder and opened it. She stared at the photos there, images forever seared and carved in her mind despite the time that had passed.

“I work hard. I got here knowing that it was due to my hard work and people who have helped me. The general manager of Blackwater Hotel was my boss when I used to wait tables in high school.” She said casually. “He wrote my recommendation for college, basically gave me all these lessons on how to get to the top. You can say he was like a father to me. So he thought it prudent for me to know the sort of man I was going to marry.”

Without warning, she tossed her phone to Oberyn, who caught it. Her eyes rested on him, her face looking serene, as he watched the slide show of photos of him entering and exiting a room with different women.

She bit her lip as ice settled and began to seep in the raw wounds in her heart.

" I couldn’t believe it. I should have confronted you but I was afraid that either you’d lie and I’d believe it or you would admit to it and I lose you. I loved you and needed you, and I wanted so much to be with you. I have eyes and ears everywhere, Oberyn, whether I like it or not. And those eyes and ears are loyal to me. I forgave the first indiscretions because I loved you and. . .you asked me to marry you. I thought. . .But then I got that. . .I wanted so much to be proven wrong but I couldn’t be. Now I know why I can't marry you, Oberyn.” She let out a long, resigned sound. “It’s my fault. I should have confronted you. Less afraid of losing you but I loved you. I can't have total trust you. I don't think I do. And now I can’t stomach having you in my life.” 

Oberyn flung her phone to the table with a force that had it smashing into pieces. But Brienne didn’t flinch.

“Like you weren’t going around spreading your legs for another.”

Confused, she stared back at him. His grin was evil.

“I know for a fact that you slept with Jaime Lannister.”

 _“Never,”_ she growled.

“No? Then why did my pillow smell like him when I got back?” At her shock, he chuckled. “Try lying your way out of this one. I could smell him everywhere in that bed.”

This time Brienne lost it. “Because I fucking had a concussion and had to be woken up every two hours! He stayed with me to do that. Don’t liken me to you, you fucking bastard. I was willing to stay in this relationship, I wanted to marry you but I was this stupid fuck thinking stupidly that you’d tell me about those women. I was so fucking stupid to worry about losing you when you’re not worth keeping at all.”

“That’s rich coming from you. You just strung me along. Do you have any idea what I had to do to be with you?”

“I didn’t force you to sell your place. You wanted to live here.”

Oberyn slapped his palm on the table with satisfaction. “And there you go. I was always the one wanting to be with you.”

Brienne crossed her arms. “That what you were thinking when you fucked Taena Merryweather’s personal assistant?”

But Oberyn wasn’t listening. “It was always me wanting to move forward with you. Me. You wouldn’t sleep over at my place so I had to show how much I wanted to be with you. When I asked you to marry me and you still wouldn’t do that, I practically had to beg to live with you.”

“Are you trying to justify why you were fucking other women? That this was all my fault? Did I hold a gun to your cock and told you to fuck elsewhere?” 

Oberyn threw her a look of dark disdain and stormed out of the kitchen. Brienne heard him ripping into the closet. Then he was out, an overnight case in hand. He cast another look of utter hate at Brienne, who only stared back calmly.

“Make sure that’s all your things,” she said. "I’m changing locks and fuck you if you think I’ll ever let you back in here.”


	5. Reasons to be With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She admired him once.

The waitress was a slim, curvy brunette whose smile never faltered the entire night. It had a hopeful lilt, matched with eyes that simmered with lust. In return, Jaime sent her a dry expression while Tyrion struggled from mocking his big brother. 

“Can I interest you with dessert?” She spoke to both but at the last word, stared at Jaime.

“Just bring us coffee,” Tyrion answered when Jaime looked away from her, hiding his annoyance. The girl huffed, for the first time in the night realizing that the handsome Lannister brother was not into her at all. She muttered something about getting their order and walking away. 

“So she does walk normally,” Jaime retorted, turning back and grunting under his breath. “I thought those hips were going to pop off with the way she was swaying.”

“Be nice,” Tyrion told him. “She can’t help putting the moves on you. You are, after all, annoyingly handsome.”

Jaime snorted and brought a glass of water to his lips. “Not my type.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “Since we’ve sat down, a redhead model whom I heard isn’t particularly choosy with who she fucks made eyes with you until she left with someone else, a blond who actually had the balls to send you a drink inviting you to join her at the bar, and probably the most beautiful woman of the night, with a downright sexy Naath accent came right up to us, at this table,” he tapped it with his pudgy finger for emphasis, “and said she would do me if you’d do her. And now that waitress who looks like she will be amenable to _anything_ in bed. What do you want?”

“I don’t believe my manager would approve of my starting an affair with anyone when she’s working day and night trying to get me back on top,” Jaime drawled. He continued to stare at Tyrion, who smiled at the frowning brunette but was ignored. She served them their coffee, parroted the standard, “Enjoy your coffee,” and put on a fake, painful smile then left. Jaime let out an impatient sigh while Tyrion chuckled.

“Oh, I never thought I’d see the day when Brienne Tarth quite literally holds you by the cock, brother,” he said. “I wonder what our dead sister would say about that.”

Jaime shot him a warning glance before putting cream in his coffee. “You sure know how to ruin the night.”

“I thought you’ve dragged that woman by the roots,” Tyrion said, ignoring his temper. “She’s not worth another thought, you know that.”

“She’s our sister.”

“More yours than mine.”

Jaime sighed. “I’m here tonight to see you and show you I’m alive. Not to talk about her.”

“Fine. Fine. If not Cersei, then let’s go back to Brienne. Since when did your manager had a say on where you put your cock?”  
Tyrion’s favorite jokes involved sex and there was no better audience for it than his brother. Jaime could dish it back but tonight, though it wasn’t Tyrion’s intent, he couldn’t. Not when he was imagining Brienne panting in his ear, her big hands eagerly guiding his cock to her cunt. His cock twitched imagining her hard thighs pinning him down, totally enslaving him with her beautiful eyes and her star nipple piercings. He couldn’t get over the image of her nipples looking pink and swollen, gleaming with the piercings, from the water. 

His fascination with Brienne had been going on for as long as he could remember. She was ugly and often wore a surly expression, all the more making her astonishingly beautiful eyes look wrong on her face. She could be the most unpleasant company since she was always herding the band like cattle and imposing limits to their fun. They all rebelled at her putting them on schedule—up at crack of dawn for a workout, a strict diet that only allowed one meal for indulgence, practices, rehearsals. She was a hard-ass but delivered results. 

And when she wasn’t being a manager, she really was a good, trusted friend, if not, an ally. Jaime would never forget the added security she placed around Loras when his family would try to sneak in their concerts and hurl abuse at him. Aware of her influence as the manager of the biggest rock band ever, she had gone on record to denounce the spread of hate, intolerance and bigotry. The Alliance for Values and Morals then went on the attack, filing a motion for songs by Kingsguard and other similar groups and artists be banned for encouraging depravity among the young. Jaime was called to testify but his inherent need to mock got him thrown out. It was Brienne’s testimony that not only painted the Alliance as idiots but also put Kingsguard records and other songs back in the market.

He had to go away for a year and lose her to another man to realize he loved her. Not in love. But love her. Truly, madly, deeply.  
When she told him the year before that she was engaged, Jaime was devastated. His sister was gone, his guilt over her death gnawing at him non-stop. Now the one pillar of light in his life was gone, lost to man worthy of her. Jaime couldn’t like Oberyn because he thought PR guys were shallow but in the days following her announcement, he realized he was going to have to accept the other man in her life or lose her completely. Tried. He tried but couldn’t. 

When he realized that nothing was holding nor keeping him anymore, no band, no Brienne, no nothing, he set out to heal himself. He went to the Quiet Isle to recover from his addictions, deal with Cersei’s ghosts but most of all to forget Brienne. 

Again, he tried. 

Really tried.

Now he was living with her, where she shared her bed with that other man. Haunted by the idea that Oberyn would fuck his lady love senseless, Jaime thought about taking sleeping pills. Just thought. His solution was some heavy-duty earphones for when they would fuck. He dreaded sleeping at night, snapping awake every time he heard a groan or a squeak from the mattress next door. He heard nothing. Still, he wasn’t in the house all the time. Who’s to say they didn’t sneak back in and fucked on the couch? 

But Jaime realized he would probably survive hearing Brienne moaning and screaming when Oberyn fucked her. Being married to him—that he couldn’t.

Jaime knew that wealth and good looks wouldn’t move Brienne. She admired him once, and he liked to think, may have been in love with him if not for Cersei’s presence, when he used to slay songs with his golden voice and people worshipped him. That was the best of him and that’s what she was going to get. He did miss singing and performing, he missed Kingsguard but nothing compared to the hole in his heart at the thought of losing Brienne for good. That would be cruel. He knew he wasn’t going to survive that.

“Since I promised her not to get home very late,” Jaime answered smoothly checking on his watch. “I have to go.”

“Go? Jaime, it’s ten-thirty. Did Brienne impose a curfew on you?” Tyrion demanded in disbelief. “Seven bloody hells, that woman is a fucking control freak. Don’t tell me she’s got her own bowel movements scheduled too? And yours?”

“Wouldn’t put it past her.” Jaime answered with a smile, imagining himself and Brienne in the shower. “Come on, I’ll take care of this.”

He doled out bills from his wallet and they stood up. As when they were first led to the table, all eyes were on them. Jaime rolled his eyes, annoyed. So his brother was four-foot-five, and looked quite monstrous with his limp hank of blond hair and mismatched eyes. He was a dwarf, period. Tyrion handled it better since he walked ahead, chin up and his expression smug. Jaime shuffled after him.

“Father would be summoning you next,” Tyrion said as they stood in front of the restaurant waiting for valet.

“You really can’t not tell him?” Jaime asked with a wince.

Tyrion was sympathetic but shrugged. “Who’s to say no one in there took a snap of you? And those sharks.” He nodded at paparazzi beginning to approach them. 

“Seven hells, “ Jaime muttered, ushering Tyrion back inside the restaurant. “I told her to wait until we’re done.”

“Brienne’s only doing what you told her,” Tyrion pointed out.

“That she does. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Jaime turned away from the glare of the flashbulbs.

The valet arrived with the car. Jaime and Tyrion made a run for it, ignoring the shouts and calls form the paparazzi to give them a nice photo. Someone shouted, “Imp!”

As Jaime gunned the engine, Tyrion stuck his head out of the window and yelled back, “My cock is still bigger than yours!”

They burst into laughter as Jaime drove away from the restaurant, easily shifting gears. “I missed you, baby brother,” he said, glancing at Tyrion with a warm smile before turning back to the road.

“Missed you too.” Tyrion said. “Ah, the Lion brothers, back in action.”

“I can’t wait to be in a recording studio again,” Jaime admitted. “I’ve written a lot in the Quiet Isle. Until now, too. There’s got to be a hit or two in the pile.”

“I can’t wait to see you back onstage,” Tyrion agreed. “You’ve always looked good up there. Fuck, it’s where you belong.”

Jaime was quiet. “Hopefully that’s not only where I belong.”

“I’d be happy to find that one cunt that would make my cock sing,” Tyrion said.

Jaime chuckled. “Thanks a lot for the visual.”

“I’m serious!” Tyrion exclaimed. “I think I’ve reached my pussy saturation point. I’m not saying no to fucking ever but I’d like to come home to someone. Fuck only that someone. Really, it’s so tiring going home with a different woman every night.”

“I’m not a woman.”

“No, you definitely are not. But you’re prettier than Brienne.” Grining mischievously, Tyrion asked, “So, I know she’s engaged to that guy. But have you seen her naked.”

 _She has the sweetest looking nipples and a full bush. Her cunt is butter-pink. I'd be happy to live the rest of my days on my knees for her._ “Of course not.”

“Why not? With legs like that, she’s got to be keeping another treat or two under her pants. The Seven Gods should rue the day pants were invented. Tell Brienne the next time I see her she’d better be in a skirt.” Tyrion smirked. “A mini-skirt.”

“Tell her yourself. That would be interesting.” Jaime’s smile was genuine. “She’s always thought of you as a dirty little lecher.”

“I _fucking love_ it. Ah, hells, if Oberyn Martell hadn’t snapped her up I would. Brienne Tarth has keeper written all over her.” 

Jaime cast him a side-eye. “I don’t follow.”

“She’s certainly dedicated. Just look at you. She’s self-made and I believe Father won’t scare her off. The way I see it,” Tyrion finished with a shrug, “she’s good stock.”

“’Good stock,’ by the fuck,” Jaime howled. “Did you just hear yourself?” 

“There’s the fact that if we fuck, we’ll populate the planet with our ugly, giant babies.” 

“Hey.” Jaime frowned at him. “Watch it. That’s my— _friend_ you’re talking about.”

“Never thought of fucking her?”

“Come on.”

“What? Now that our sister’s gone, think of your cock.”

“Tyrion.”

“You remember Bronn?”

“Your leather-faced butler who has to be put in his place?” Bronn was probably the rudest, most-foul-mouthed person Jaime had ever met. But Tyrion vowed the man knew how to run and manage a house. 

Tyrion clapped his hands. “I’ll be sure to pass that along. Anyway, now that you’re back, I’d like to repay the man’s good service by, uh, arranging a meeting with your manager and my butler.”

“He’s a butler. And Brienne’s—“ Jaime glared at Tyrion. “She’s engaged, you idiot.”

“I’m sure like any other girl she’s dreaming of a last free fuck before welcoming matrimony.”

“No. If that’s your intention, no.”

“What if I were to present to her—“

“Tyrion.”

“I’m sure—“

 _“Don’t,”_ Jaime warned, _“even think about it.”_

Tyrion turned to his brother, about to make a smart comeback. Then he saw the twitch under his cheek that was a tell-tale sign for a mounting temper and the stiff set of his jaw. Tyrion waited until Jaime negotiated a difficult turn to his place then spoke up.

“Jaime. Do you _like_ her?”

“ _What?_ Fuck, no!”

“Really.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“No, you are.”

“I have no compunction against dropping you off in the middle of nowhere.”

“I have my cell phone and my Lannister looks.”

Damn. 

“So, do you volunteer as Brienne's last free fuck?" Tyrion prompted.

Jaime hit the brakes.


	6. Everybody Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please don’t hate me, Jaime?”  
> “I can never hate you.”   
> “Yes you will,” she insisted. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”  
> “When have I ever broken a promise to you, wench?”

Tyrion wisely shut up for the rest of the drive. Jaime was grateful. There was no question to how he felt about Brienne but he didn’t want anyone picking up on it first, especially his brother. The merciless teasing was not his main issue, it was that it was knowledge Brienne must know first. He still remembered too well what happened the last time someone else realized it.  
He dropped off his little brother. As Tyrion unbuckled his seatbelt, he said, “I apologize for being insensitive.”

“There’s no need to apologize but next time, just shut up,” Jaime said. Tyrion nodded. He should have known better than crossing a fellow Lannister. No Lannister made idle threats. Jaime had actually stopped the car and ordered Tyrion out. Tyrion had laughed before he realized he was serious. 

Jaime left Tyrion standing at the door of his townhouse. He had a thirty-minute drive ahead of him.

He was eager for home, even if it was with Oberyn and Brienne. Propriety and sense told him to make arrangement to move out soon before he overstayed his welcome but Jaime was ready to fight. For as long as they were unmarried, he had a chance. He only needed a window. If he was his old self, he would have created such window. Something told him to have faith.

Brienne lived in the suburbs. She hated living in the city and was willing to leave earlier for work. Jaime, until last year, couldn’t imagine living elsewhere. Home was Casterly Rock until college in Kings University. He returned only once. The quiet life of a town made him uneasy but two weeks in the suburbs now, he saw her rationale behind it. It wasn’t as quiet as he thought but it helped distancing himself from the city, even by just a few miles. Brienne also lived in a private community so that restricted paparazzi from camping out. 

Jaime was cruising on a street where he would have to make the last turn to Brienne’s house when who would he see but the wench herself. There was no mistaking her for anyone else—he would recognize the tight, athletic shape of her butt anywhere and those legs. Tyrion might curse the gods for inventing pants but not Jaime. Not leggings, anyway. Hells, her legs were insanely long. It was dark, her leggings were black but he made out every bulge and ripple of muscle in her thighs, her calves.   
She was jogging ahead of him, lost in the motion of her legs and feet thudding on the ground. The night was cool but she wore only a faded orange t-shirt, now marked with splotches of sweat on her back. He gently tapped the horn and she whirled around, her blue eyes wide then squinting. He was quick to lower the lights as she shielded herself from the glare. Recognition dawned on her face and she approached him.

 _Seven bloody hells._ Her hips didn’t oscillate in that seductive way women seemed to just know but her strides ate up the ground and he couldn’t look away. He lowered the window of the passenger door as she bent at the waist. 

“You’re home,” she said. Her face was red and gleamed with sweat. She looked uglier and he didn’t think that was possible yet his chest was tight. Her eyes were blue and seemed extra shiny in the night. 

The neckline of her t-shirt was high, so that was disappointing. But he smelled her sweat, and, dare he say it, moonlight on her skin. It was cool and fresh, touched by her personal musk that had him taking a deep breath to absorb it in his system. 

“You’re out,” he told her. “Can I give you a lift?” 

She smirked and opened the door.

“I didn’t know you run at night,” Jaime said as he resumed driving. With the window shut, her scent clouded the car. Gods, she smelled like moonlight and woman. Warm, vital, red-faced woman. He was grateful that his pants were dark and so was the car else Brienne would think him a pervert.

“I was feeling restless,” was her answer. 

He forced a grin. “Oberyn isn’t distracting enough?”

“He had to leave.”

“Oh.”

So it was just the two of them tonight.

Jaime pulled up in her driveway. He followed her out of the car, admiring how the t-shirt, though definitely not her color, fit her. Her waist was not curvy but by the gods, she had more muscles than he thought possible. He watched her easily reach the top of the doorway and feel for the key there. Under the sleeves of her t-shirt were dark, round patches of sweat. 

He was seeing everything that women hid from men. He knew women sweated but not like Brienne, not like this. Damn, but she was still sweating. 

His cock was beginning to hurt real bad.

“How’s Tyrion?” Brienne asked as she unlocked the door and went in. Jaime followed her, forcing himself to stop leering at her legs.

“Infuriating as ever but he’s blood so I have no choice but to love him,” Jaime replied as he crashed on the couch. He kicked off his shoes with a sigh then put his feet up on the coffee table.

Brienne took a bottle of water from the kitchen and drank. He had to look away from the motions of her throat swallowing. When she finished, he turned back to see her returning the drink in the fridge. 

“Social media has picked up on your presence,” she told him, leaving the kitchen so she could sit on the ottoman across from him. She toed off her running shoes, her socks then put her feet up on the table as well, her legs resting beside his. Gods, were those freckles? He thought.

“You really did call the paps on me?”

“It’s my job. I’ll show you from my tablet but later.”

“Where’s your phone?”

She blushed and that intrigued him. “It fell and it’s broken. I’ll replace it tomorrow.”

“Show me tomorrow. Actually, show me never.” Jaime said, leaning heavily against the couch. “I’d rather read about myself when I’ve done something worthwhile, not because I’ve made the first step in bringing the return of the grunge look.” 

Brienne’s laugh was a cross between horsey and a snort. Her eyes looked very blue and bright as they regarded him. “I take back what I thought about your stupid hair. It works.”

He grinned. “Told you.”

“And you will do something worthwhile, Jaime. I promise.” Then her cheeks warmed again. 

Suddenly, she shot to her feet, picking up her shoes and sneakers. Surprised by her sudden reaction, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

For the first time since knowing her, a look of uncertainty crossed her features. The amusement in her eyes was replaced with something akin to despondency. Jaime straightened up, tensing.

“I don’t know if this is the time to say it,” Brienne began, revealing a tremor in her voice. She looked at her bare toes as she spoke. “There is never a good time to say it.”

Jaime couldn’t imagine what she had to say that make her look at him like that, almost with fear. Like she had disappointed him. At the very moment he was looking at her, Brienne ran her hand down her stomach.

“Fuck me hard, wench. Are you pregnant?” He growled, jerking to his feet.

“What? No!” Brienne glared at him. “What the hell?”

“You did this.” He mimicked her. 

“That’s because I didn’t have dinner.” 

“You didn’t have dinner and you’re off running? What if you fainted? What if you fainted and someone kidnapped you? What kind of _idiot_ goes running in the dark starving?” Jaime ranted, his green eyes staring at her with disbelief.

“Okay, will you sit down?” Brienne asked calmly. She looked somewhat perturbed at the combination of his anger and concern.“Because this isn’t easy for me.”

“Aren’t you feeling faint? Why don’t you sit down?”

“It’s going to take more than a missed meal to put me on my ass, Lannister. Sit. Down.” 

He glared at her challengingly and she stared right back. Then he sat back down. Brienne put her sneakers down and sat on the coffee table. She looked worried. As if she was about to relay some really bad news.

“Jaime, I want you to know that what happens next is entirely up to you. I believe in you. You are so talented,” she said   
passionately, her eyes seeming to plead with him to believe her. “I hope. . .I hope you don’t stop because you are one of the greatest artists of this generation. And I swear to you to bring you back to the top where you belong. That’s’ where you should be. On top. You’re the best and you deserve better. Much better.” Suddenly, she burst into tears.

Her face crumpled, rendering her more ugly than ever. She just couldn’t stop getting uglier. Confused but worried for her, he put his hands on her knees and stroked her hard thighs up and down. 

“Hey. What’s going on exactly, wench?” She let out a loud, broken sob and he took her chin between thumb and forefinger. Her breath was unsteady puffs from her red nose. He stared at her searchingly, looking into her teary sapphire eyes, her big mouth curved down as she struggled from making any more sobs. His other hand climbed to her cheek.

“Stop that. Tell me.”

“Please don’t hate me, Jaime?”

“I can never hate you.” 

“Yes you will,” she insisted. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“When have I ever broken a promise to you, wench?”

A fresh bout of tears fell down her cheeks. 

“Stop calling me that.”

Despite his concern, he smiled. “But it suits you.”

“Fuck you, Jaime.”

He laughed and wiped her tears away with his knuckles. “How can you think I’ll hate you when you’re always calling me names and I never once complained about it?”

She sniffed. “This is different.”

“Nothing you can do will make me hate you, Brienne.” He pushed back the sweaty tendrils of her hair from her forehead as he spoke. “How dare you doubt me.” But his voice was gentle, even smiling.

Brienne hung her head. “Oh gods.”

If he couldn’t convince her with words, there was another way.

Jaime once again took her by the chin so she would look at him. He looked in her eyes, at the devastation in her ugly face.

Then he kissed her.

Her lips were soft but he knew that because of their full, plump curve. It took everything Jaime had to keep the kiss quick, too quick, cruelly quick, lest she thought—well, what would she think? He stopped himself from licking her just in time, pushing himself away from her with painful reluctance. He sat back, his heart a furious thump in his chest as he struggled from licking his own lips to have a taste of her that remained there. 

She stared back at him, cow-eyed. He schooled his expression into an unreadable mask. 

“See?” He said blandly. “I clearly don’t hate you.”

“Not yet.”

“Why don’t you let me prove you wrong.”

“Jaime, we’re friends, right?”

He nodded. “Always.” His hand fell on her knee, his eyes on her face. “You’ll never lose me, wench.” 

“I would like to believe that.”

“Let me prove it to you.”

The saddest blue eyes in the world stared back at him.

“Jaime, there’s no Kingsguard anymore.” 

 

 

Once again Brienne punched and pushed at the pillow. 

Hours had passed since she killed Jaime’s dreams. Hours, but every time she closed her eyes she saw the flicker of hope vanishing from his eyes. It was awful, just awful. Brienne cursed Rhaegar, Loras, Sandor and Stannis for putting her in this position. Then she thought about kicking herself because she could have forced them to break the news to Jaime themselves. They were friends longer. It was their obligation. 

She should learn to take on fewer things. Especially those that smashed the spirit.

Gods, I hate myself.

At three in the morning, Brienne gave up on sleep and left the bed. It was futile to search the bathroom for sleeping pills because she flushed her prescription down the toilet when Jaime moved in. Wine was also kept at minimum but getting drunk was not an option ever. Milk! She remembered. Warm milk. Maybe with a dash of cinnamon too. That ought to work.

She tried to be quiet tinkering in the kitchen. She rinsed the saucepan then put it on the stove. The milk in the fridge was less a than a half full, just about to fill a mug. She poured it into the pan, found the cinnamon and added it too. 

She was about to bring the mug to her room when a rough groan came from Jaime’s room. She froze. He was struggling to sleep too. So she turned on her heel and tapped softly on his door. A startled, husky voice answered her. “Brienne?”

“Can I come in?”

Much sheet rustling followed. Just when she thought he must have been talking in his sleep, he called for her to come in.  
Jaime had witched the bedside lamp on and was rubbing his eyes from the glare. As he removed his hands and looked up at her from the futon, Brienne realized for the first time just how much of her he could see. The lighting may be limited but there was no disguising the thinness of her t-shirt, that she was wearing only panties though they were the big, full style grannies favored. Despite clearly being sleepy, an alertness reached Jaime’s eyes when he stared at her nipples. 

“Uh, I have milk.” She said, setting it down on the table. “It’s yours if you want it.”

He sighed and sat up. Brienne looked away from his bare chest and golden hairs scattered on it. The blanket puddled at his trim waist. 

“Can’t sleep either?”

She looked at her feet then him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Gods fuck, Brienne,” Jaime said impatiently. “I told you none of it is your fault.”

She nodded and turned to go.

“You woke me up and now you’re just leaving?”

“I have milk.” She said, not knowing what else to say.

Jaime's eyes burned at the sight of her tits before drawling, “Well, if you’re offering, bring it over here.” 

Brienne took the mug and went to him. Jaime watched her put it on the bedside table but when she turned to go, his hand caught her by the wrist.

“Where are you going?”

“Jaime, I’m not. . .I’m not really dressed.” She was blushing heavily.

He rolled his eyes and released her hand so he could get the milk. “I’ve already seen you naked, wench. There’s no point of hiding yourself from me. Don’t leave.” He suddenly begged, taking a sip of the milk. Then another. “Fuck, that’s good. Sit down, Brienne. No. Not at the foot of the bed. Next to me.”

Seeing her dubious stare, he held up his hands.

“I promise I will not take advantage. No matter how tempting you look.”

“Tempting.” She had to laugh. “Right.”

So she sat down. To her surprise, Jaime put the blanket around her, handing her the mug. “What are you doing?” She demanded  
.  
“It’s cold.” He nodded pointedly at her nipples. He grinned. “You want me to warm them up for you?”

“Jaime.” She warned him, hating how taut her body became at his offer. 

“Just kidding. Try some of that milk. It’s good. What’s in it?” He lay back down, turning on his side to look up at her. 

“Cinammon,” she added. “I like the smell.”

“Finish it,” he urged her.

“I should go back—“

“Stay.” At her stunned look, he said it again: “Stay, Brienne. I need my friend.”

She knew he didn’t desire her but in light of what had just happened with Oberyn, it just felt wrong. Yet her body refused to budge an inch away from Jaime. Instead, it lay down on the futon. It was a tight fit but after some shifting and turning, their tall, broad forms fit snugly. Brienne put the mug on the nightstand and turned off the light.

“Just for tonight,” she told him, her eyes looking at him though she couldn’t see him in the dark. But she felt the warmth of his body, the rough hairs of his legs as they tickled her bare ones. She turned on her side, her back against his chest.

Jaime’s voice sounded hollow. “Only tonight.”

He put his arm around her waist. Brienne closed her eyes as he kissed her on the forehead.

Moved by his gesture, she whispered, “I believe in you, Jaime. Always.” 

Then she dreamed of mighty roars that reached right into her heart. 

Her words began to stitch pieces of himself that had gotten torn and ragged. He kissed her again, on the shoulder this time, and was at last given the release of sleep. 

His dreams were blue, oceans of immeasurable depths and mountains upon mountains of sapphires.


	7. Not A Step Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loss made you do the strangest things, and sometimes they were terrible.

She knew before coming fully awake that Jaime’s head rested on her chest, his arm and leg clutching her as if she were a life line. Her eyes opened, staring sleepily at the pale beams of light streaming through the gap where the drapes had not been pulled completely closed. Then she looked at the golden head resting between her breasts.

Thick and golden still, now sprinkled with silver in some, she saw, tentatively touching them with her fingertips. They felt like silk threads, something to be envied, really, she thought, her touch acquiring some sureness. 

Jaime let out a breath and she stilled. He surprised her by murmuring, “Don’t stop.”

She didn’t know if he was awake or dreaming but she did as asked.

As she stroked his hair, her mind reeled back to what had been written about Jaime, and what she knew first-hand. He was a tough nut to crack, check. Interviews and profiles that claimed to be in-depth couldn’t really get to the heart of Jaime Lannister. His lyrics showed a man of intelligence but cynical towards the establishment, in a lot of things. Interviewing Jaime was almost disappointing because the things he sang about were exactly what he was. Though he never went on record to explicitly say which songs were directly inspired by personal events, it was well-known that he did get a lot from his life. 

In private, Jaime was more interesting and compelling. Relaxed and he looked years younger. His in-born snark drove them up the wall but you could never accuse him of being deceiving. He said exactly what he thought, whether it pleased you or not. But way past that veneer of smug impenetrability was a vulnerable man who was, at times, paralyzed by genuine fear.

He constantly worried about disappointing people. Brienne remembered how he couldn’t relax during those crucial minutes before a show because Cersei would complain that he was addicted to applause and glory, he never had time for her anymore. Brienne saw that Cersei was disturbingly possessive of Jaime, to the extent that if she had her way, she would manage his career so they were never apart. Tyrion said that the twins have always been close and bonded even more at the death of their mother. She was sorry for all the time she saw Jaime really conflicted when Cersei would pressure him to cut back on performances and the band pressed him to concentrate on them. 

Now Cersei was gone. 

It was terrible to be glad that someone was dead, no matter how vile she was. Jaime cared for his sister, protected her, loved her and took her death hard. Though he had long dreamed of being free of her, never did it cross his mind that her violent death would pave the way. And if they were that close, Brienne could understand why he did the things he did. She wasn’t herself when her father died, as well. At eighteen years old, she had lost the one person she loved the most. Loss made you do the strangest things, and sometimes they were terrible. 

Jaime seemed to have forgiven her for abandoning him at his lowest moment. Brienne hoped so, else why did he write to her, why was he here. And now, trusting her to give him comfort no matter how small. Jaime tend to ask for so little of himself.  
For the first time since telling him the news about Kingsguard, she realized just how alone he was.

His father, the feared businessman Tywin, disowned him for being in a band instead of finishing school. It was only when Jaime proved he could attain success on his own that father and son began to see each other but he told Brienne he couldn’t really forgive his father. Tyrion at least understood and supported his brother but he wasn’t there during the first days of Kingsguard, those moments when surrendering was the easiest and the best option. Jaime found himself in music and it shaped who he was. Now that the band he lived for was gone, Brienne worried that he might lose his way again. 

Or worse.

She embraced him. To herself, she vowed to never abandon him again. 

Jaime, still half-asleep, sighed and burrowed deeper. He nuzzled her breasts, drawing a soft moan from her. She stiffened, embarrassed by her response. She squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to disappear as she felt Jaime move, his actions surer and firmer, until she felt him leaning up and looking at her.

“Will you let me?”

Startled, her eyes flew open. 

He was looking at her with a grave expression, as if about to reveal something life-shattering to her. Up close, she saw the lines around his eyes, lines that weren’t there a year before. The graceful, natural arch of his eyebrows were more silver. Before she knew what was happening, her hand climbed to his cheek to know the rasp of the stubble there. She bit her lip and she saw his tongue licking his lips. He had gone still as she touched his face.

“You were not this old last year,” she said, making a face at how stupid the words sounded.

He smirked as her thumb skated on the groove next to his lips. “I _am_ older.”

“You have silver. Here,” she touched his beard, his eyebrow. “Here.” Then her fingers slid through his hair. “Here. At the top. And only seen when I’m like this.”

He turned his head as her hand lowered to touch the other side of his face. His breath was warm and shaky. “When you’re in my arms?”

She traced his eyebrow. “You’re in my arms, Jaime.”

His smile was brighter than the sun entering the room. 

“I’m so sorry about last night.”

“Damn it, wench. Stop apologizing.” Jaime kissed her fingers and moved. Brienne moved too, shifting and spreading her legs until he settled between them. He grinned at the pink spots spreading across her cheeks as his hardened cock nudged at her. “You didn’t end Kingsguard. You fought to put us back together.”

She dropped her hand and looked away. “I failed.”

“No.” 

She turned back to protest yes she did but Jaime’s lips on hers stopped her. Shock froze her though his lips were warm, very warm, and soft, the softest she had kissed. His lips rested on hers for a few seconds before his head turned. He teased the suddenly-sensitive corners of her lips, then a tongue joined the game he was drawing her into, a game in which she had no knowledge of rules and only him. Yet her hands returned to him, light on his bare shoulders where the skin was warm too and muscles strained and pushed under her palms. 

Blood roared in her ears as Jaime deepened the kiss, a slow, sure devouring of her mouth, her tongue. He was hard and thrusting between her legs. Despite the fabric between their bodies, she hissed at the undeniable bulge pressing and nudging at her pussy. A rough tingle began between the lower regions of their bodies and Jaime must have felt it too because his hips started rocking against hers. Her legs climbed to his side before her ankles crossed at the middle of his back.

“Jaime.” She closed her eyes, pulling her mouth away from his kisses. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she was engaged. Shorter than that, Oberyn broke her heart. Way shorter, she turned around to break Jaime’s. The guilt nagged at her but his lips brushing random freckles on her cheek, down her neck, pushed this dimness back, and back. She was terrified. Not of Jaime. But because there was nothing stopping this now.

No Cersei.

No Oberyn.

No guilt.

As Jaime lowered his head and started mouthing and licking her tits through her t-shirt, her hands grabbed for his boxers. She bent her legs at an impossibly wide angle that had his cock practically fucking her to get it off. He groaned as she bared him, whispered, “Wench,” against her mouth when he took it back. As they kissed, he tugged at her t-shirt.

Brienne was reduced to panting and moaning his name, receiving his kisses and offering herself. She raised her arms so he could pull the t-shirt off. But Jaime stopped as it was halfway up her arms. As she stared at him in confusion, his green eyes twinkled and he pressed his hands on her trapped arms, telling her with a quick incline of his head they were to remain like this. She bit her lip and watched as his pupils enlarged at the sight of her naked chest, the slight mounds of her breasts, the star piercing that framed her aureoles, held by studs threaded through her nipples. 

Her breasts swelled under Jaime’s scrutiny. When he flicked his tongue around one nipple, she wailed.

He stopped and looked at her. “Sensitive?”

She shook her head wildly. “Keep going,” she gasped.

He grinned and nuzzled the area between her breasts. “Gods, I’ve wanted to see these again. I had no idea. Fucking had no idea,” he said before wrapping lips around her nipple again. He sucked loudly, drawing another cry from her. She struggled to free her arms, writhing and squirming and Jaime put a hand over them to stop her.

“No. Stay like that.” He winked at her. “If you touch me anymore I’m going to embarrass myself. Do you have any idea how intoxicating you taste? It's steel,” he placed a tender kiss on her nipple. "Steel and woman."

Then without warning, he hooked his fingers in her underwear and yanked them down. “I thought you didn’t wear these,” he continued, amused at her blush. “You disappoint me, wench.”

“I wear panties,” she retorted as dragged them down her legs before flinging them away. He elbowed her legs open and grinned at her. “Sometimes I just skip them. Oh. _Gods._ ” She moaned as Jaime pressed his tongue on her clit.

He kissed and licked her, heightening the rising tension in her body. Then he tortured her some more when his fingers fucked her. They were sharp, deep thrusts in her cunt, curling and turning. Too much. _Too good._ She curled her legs but Jaime grunted and flattened his palms on her thighs, spreading her wider. He sucked on her clit hungrily and his fingers fucked her vigorously. She couldn’t tell anymore if the sounds she was hearing were his wet kisses or the deep forays of his fingers inside her. She looked in his eyes before she had to look away, unable to take the intensity beaming from his gaze. A few strokes, a few more turns of his tongue on her clit and she shattering, her cry piercing the quiet of the morning.

She was still shaking from her orgasm, her vision awashed with golden stars when she felt Jaime’s lips back on her. She blushed as she tasted the bittersweet tang of her cunt from his tongue, and blushed even more when she managed to free her arms from the t-shirt to cup his face so she could suck on his tongue. He purred against her lips and she giggled. Then she started touching him again.

“Wench,” Jaime licked her lips,a pleading note entering his voice. “Maybe don’t touch me so much. I haven’t fucked in over a year. I want to make this last, make this good for us.” 

As his lips resumed kissing her breasts, Brienne’s ardor began to thaw, replaced by the stubborn return of sense. Oh gods. They were going to fuck.

She was his manager! They were friends!

Not when they fucked.

Oblivious to the change in her mood, Jaime turned his head to suck on her other nipple, his fingers pinching and plucking at the one he just left. "I knew you'd be sweet." 

“Jaime.” She said, her voice sounding disembodied. “Jaime. Jaime. Stop. Please, stop.” 

She must have sounded afraid because he immediately pulled away. He sat back on his heels and she wrestled the shirt back on. Her breasts were heavy with arousal and her nipples were worse, tight and painful at the interruption. Jaime rolled to the side and she caught a glimpse of his cock, golden and erect. Blushing, she rose from the bed.

“This was a mistake,” she managed to say, hugging herself to hide her traitorous nipples. Tugging the t-shirt to hide her cunt was useless because it was too short. 

Jaime looked disgruntled as he covered himself with a sheet. He rubbed his eyes and sighed loudly. “You’re right. You’re engaged. I’m sorry.”

“No. Oberyn and I are over.”

He looked at her, surprised. “Since when?”

“Last night. Just last night. Jaime, no. We can’t do this.”

“I understand. You need time. I should have—“

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “Never. We can’t. We shouldn’t. Not in a month, not a year from now. Never.”

Jaime stared at her, frowning. “And why is that?”

“Because we have a good relationship. What we have works. I’m your manager. We’re friends. Let’s not screw it up.”  
“What the hell makes you think that fucking would be a mistake?” Jaime demanded. He stared longingly at her bare legs. His eyes rested on the wet juncture between her thighs, brightening as she quickly palmed the dark blond curls. Brienne wished desperately for a robe, though she wanted nothing more than to wrap herself around him. “Because I have no intention of stopping to fuck you once I’ve fucked you, Brienne. I want to fuck you. I dream of fucking you—“  
His words were making her hot. Brenne stomped her foot and shouted, “No!”

“Why? Give me a good reason.”

“What happens when things end badly? We won’t be able to work together again.”

“Why are you so sure that’s what would happen?”

“Please, Jaime. We can’t. You want to return to music. So do I. We’re best for each other as we are. Until here.’ She used her hands to gesture the demarcation line then covered herself again. “We can’t. We shouldn’t. We’re going to ruin each other and I’ll never forgive myself if you start taking drugs again. Or worse.”

The stare Jaime threw at her rendered all warmth in the room to vanish.

“If you have so little faith in me, Brienne. You leave me no choice.” He said. “You’re fired.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for Part Three :-)


End file.
